~BBW (Multiple), ~Sex, ~~WG, ~XWG - A big event with even bigger surprises!
[Author's Note: ... The usual you've come to expect from Scx. I think.]
The wedding of George Arturio Betancourt Guiglimo-Harrison and Veronica Judith Baselton was going to be the event of the year. All the gossip magazines had done specials on the fabulously wealthy Guiglimo-Harrisons (and their shadier ancestors in 1920’s Chicago) and the stunningly beautiful Veronica, runner-up for Miss Teen in her state, successful model by 21, etc., etc., etc. Even stranger was that none of the bridesmaids, nor the bride, had been seen for a year, all hidden away by the Guiglimo-Harrisons!
The music began to play, and all the guests stood up, and turned towards the doorway, where the first bridesmaid, Tamara, was slowly coming in.
Tamara was an old roommate of Veronica’s from college. They’d gone through thick and thin together. Literally – Both had gained the freshman 15 (more like twenty, in Tamara’s case) and struggled to lose it again (not entirely successfully, in Tamara’s case). Over the few years since, the weight had come back with more, and the 5’6” tall Tamara weighed in at 170 pounds of smooth round woman. She had also gone into modeling, but where Veronica was glamourous, Tamara was only called in for catalog shoots where they needed a ‘girl next door’ type, and her slowly increasing weight were making even them fewer and farther between.
Then came the invitation. It looked like a nice holiday: The invitation was to spend an entire year at the Guiglimo-Harrison country house, with everything taken care of, and be at the wedding afterwards.
It wasn’t until she arrived that the whole deal was exposed. All the bridesmaids were taken to a rack of dresses, bridesmaid dresses, all blue satin with foofy bows on the butt. The surprising thing was the sizes. They went from what Tamara would have called ‘tent-size’, and up to what could only be ‘big top’ size. And then the money – a million dollars per position in the line of bridesmaids, ranked by weight.
All of Tamara’s problems were solved, but she’d have new ones too.
She sniffled as she waddled down the aisle towards the priest, partly because she knew her vacation was over, and partly because she’d only managed a single million dollars, but mostly because she knew she’d never lose the 330 pounds of soft white flesh she was hauling into the church.
There was nothing else to do at the country house but eat and laze around. They were surrounded by goodies constantly and meals were multi-course affairs. Tamara had never had good will-power when surrounded by food, and nothing here made it easier. Over the course of a year she’d lolled by the pool, lazed in front of the TV, slept off ridiculous meals in the sun on the porch, hardly lifting a finger except to request more to eat, and the results were obvious by the end of the first month alone.
Her thighs had thickened, her waist widened, her breasts grew heavier. It was like her first months in college, as her weight soared and body expanded towards those ridiculous dresses. She’d always been lazy, and here she could just let go. So she did, indulging her every taste sensation, picking out her favourite foods and loading up her belly with them.
Tamara was definitely expanding, growing weaker as she grew fatter. At 250 pounds she was practically limp and softer than a marshmallow. Her already wimpy metabolism slumped even further, and she bloated even faster. Soon three hundred pounds dripped from her frame, and the staff helped her stand, sit, roll over, and eat. Her cheeks stuffed with sugary goodness, they had stabilized her on the scale earlier this morning and read off 331 pounds.
With Tamara still half-asleep, the seamstress measured her, then let her sit down for a little while. The dress was adjusted, and put on her. Tamara dimly recalled how surprised she’d been at the first sight of those dresses, and now she was wearing one, nearly twice the woman she had been, delivered to the church door in her own limosine.
The bridesmaid was lazy, the walk down the aisle was long. Tamara was sweating before she was halfway through, the farthest she’d walked in months, and now at her fattest. Her feet were in shoes meant more for decoration than walking. The butt-bow waved, rising and falling with each heave of her thick thighs pushing on her fat ass, slowly propelling her soft fat towards her place. Finally, panting for breath, she reached the end, and took her position tiredly, wondering what the future was for a millionaire butterball.
All heads turned back to the door as the music continued to play, and Kellie, the second bridesmaid, sailed in.
Kellie had always been a big girl. Standing nearly 6’ tall, she’d been a star on the high school girl’s basketball team. Veronica was also on the team, but where Kellie was playing starting center, Veronica’s role was rather more decorative. Kellie had gotten a sports scholarship to some tiny college in the backwoods south, and they’d drifted apart for some years, then started exchanging cards and letters and email again. Then came the invitation.
Kellie had gotten a business degree and was working idly in an insurance office in a small town, keeping herself in shape and trying not to frighten off all the available men, and the idea of a year’s vacation sounded great. Again, like Tamara, she was shocked by all the terms of the deal, but she’d be going back home many times a millionaire, and that, well, that made it all right.
She’d been just slightly heavier than Tamara when she arrived, at 178 pounds, but where Tamara was doughy softness from snacking and laziness, Kellie was all long strong muscle. Her breasts were high and firm, her glutes toned, her thighs muscular. Or they had been.
There wasn’t any exercise machinery at the country house. There wasn’t a basketball court, or even a tennis court. There was a pool, but it was strangely shaped, more for ambience than swimming laps. And Kellie was naturally competitive – This would just be a different kind of game.
So Kellie dove into the arrays of food with a will and a way. But even so, she only made it into second-to-last place. Her high-energy metabolism had been burning off calories all her life. Months had gone by. Tamara’s weight had shot past her own, having gone over 200 in just two months, and Kellie was just looking a little softer at 190, so she had to make a change.
So no more walks around the house to look at the flowers and birds. No more swimming. No more of that. Kellie realized she’d been unconsciously ‘eating healthy’, too, picking up more of the fresh vegetables and less of the red meat. No more. She came out of her room that morning and announced her intentions to everyone, the staff, the other bridesmaids, and most importantly the cooks that she wanted food, junk food, and wanted it now.
Her body finally got with the program. Either through force of will or because it was already reeling from her twenty pound gain, the blast of empty calories, butter, sugar, and lard knocked it flat. Kellie remained as close to horizontal as she could, as long as she could, every day, and kept pushing sugar between her lips and gulping it down. At mealtimes she deliberately took more gravy, larger helpings of everything, and ate as quickly as she could. And she got results.
Kellie had always been a big girl, but now she was getting much bigger. Her underwear stretched thin, then snapped. She stopped wearing any. Her sweatpants began to strain keeping her thickening thighs and bubble butt in, then tore away. She decided to wear only a bathrobe. And the numbers on the scale kept ratcheting up. Two hundred pounds came on fast. Then two hundred and fifty. Her butt was widening rapidly. Her thighs touched, then pressed together, tone and definition fleeing under the onslaught of fat. Her sharp-boned face rounded out, cheeks chubbing up, her breasts racing forwards, and losing, to the expansion of her belly.
More calories chased each other between her teeth. The hard-charging competitor’s weight caught the indolent and lazy Tamara at 312, and kept going, but there was only a month left in the year, and now Kellie was sauntering down the aisle, smiling at everyone, admiring the expensive flowers.
The smile was a little forced, in fact. The last few days had been an incessant blur of chewing, her stomach always aching from overloading. Although the final weighing had been some hours before, she’d glutted herself one more time just before walking in, just to show them even more, as the tightness in her stomach and the tightness in her dress fought each other.
And she was showing them. She’d been weighed at 351 pounds, with a fifty-inch bustline and a sixty-inch waist, good for two million dollars. The seamstress had made it fit excellently, but Kellie had gone and stuffed herself one more time, obviously straining the smooth fabric as she swayed along. She reached the end, a powerful dominatrix woman of tight dresses, tight skin, and firmly quivering fat, and accidentally brushed against the doughy softness of Tamara.
Both women giggled nervously, neither of them really familiar with how large they’d become, and turned to watch the third bridesmaid enter.
There was a noticeable delay. The music continued.
[Author's Note: ... The usual you've come to expect from Scx. I think.]
Five Bridesmaids
by ~Scx
by ~Scx
The wedding of George Arturio Betancourt Guiglimo-Harrison and Veronica Judith Baselton was going to be the event of the year. All the gossip magazines had done specials on the fabulously wealthy Guiglimo-Harrisons (and their shadier ancestors in 1920’s Chicago) and the stunningly beautiful Veronica, runner-up for Miss Teen in her state, successful model by 21, etc., etc., etc. Even stranger was that none of the bridesmaids, nor the bride, had been seen for a year, all hidden away by the Guiglimo-Harrisons!
The music began to play, and all the guests stood up, and turned towards the doorway, where the first bridesmaid, Tamara, was slowly coming in.
Tamara was an old roommate of Veronica’s from college. They’d gone through thick and thin together. Literally – Both had gained the freshman 15 (more like twenty, in Tamara’s case) and struggled to lose it again (not entirely successfully, in Tamara’s case). Over the few years since, the weight had come back with more, and the 5’6” tall Tamara weighed in at 170 pounds of smooth round woman. She had also gone into modeling, but where Veronica was glamourous, Tamara was only called in for catalog shoots where they needed a ‘girl next door’ type, and her slowly increasing weight were making even them fewer and farther between.
Then came the invitation. It looked like a nice holiday: The invitation was to spend an entire year at the Guiglimo-Harrison country house, with everything taken care of, and be at the wedding afterwards.
It wasn’t until she arrived that the whole deal was exposed. All the bridesmaids were taken to a rack of dresses, bridesmaid dresses, all blue satin with foofy bows on the butt. The surprising thing was the sizes. They went from what Tamara would have called ‘tent-size’, and up to what could only be ‘big top’ size. And then the money – a million dollars per position in the line of bridesmaids, ranked by weight.
All of Tamara’s problems were solved, but she’d have new ones too.
She sniffled as she waddled down the aisle towards the priest, partly because she knew her vacation was over, and partly because she’d only managed a single million dollars, but mostly because she knew she’d never lose the 330 pounds of soft white flesh she was hauling into the church.
There was nothing else to do at the country house but eat and laze around. They were surrounded by goodies constantly and meals were multi-course affairs. Tamara had never had good will-power when surrounded by food, and nothing here made it easier. Over the course of a year she’d lolled by the pool, lazed in front of the TV, slept off ridiculous meals in the sun on the porch, hardly lifting a finger except to request more to eat, and the results were obvious by the end of the first month alone.
Her thighs had thickened, her waist widened, her breasts grew heavier. It was like her first months in college, as her weight soared and body expanded towards those ridiculous dresses. She’d always been lazy, and here she could just let go. So she did, indulging her every taste sensation, picking out her favourite foods and loading up her belly with them.
Tamara was definitely expanding, growing weaker as she grew fatter. At 250 pounds she was practically limp and softer than a marshmallow. Her already wimpy metabolism slumped even further, and she bloated even faster. Soon three hundred pounds dripped from her frame, and the staff helped her stand, sit, roll over, and eat. Her cheeks stuffed with sugary goodness, they had stabilized her on the scale earlier this morning and read off 331 pounds.
With Tamara still half-asleep, the seamstress measured her, then let her sit down for a little while. The dress was adjusted, and put on her. Tamara dimly recalled how surprised she’d been at the first sight of those dresses, and now she was wearing one, nearly twice the woman she had been, delivered to the church door in her own limosine.
The bridesmaid was lazy, the walk down the aisle was long. Tamara was sweating before she was halfway through, the farthest she’d walked in months, and now at her fattest. Her feet were in shoes meant more for decoration than walking. The butt-bow waved, rising and falling with each heave of her thick thighs pushing on her fat ass, slowly propelling her soft fat towards her place. Finally, panting for breath, she reached the end, and took her position tiredly, wondering what the future was for a millionaire butterball.
All heads turned back to the door as the music continued to play, and Kellie, the second bridesmaid, sailed in.
Kellie had always been a big girl. Standing nearly 6’ tall, she’d been a star on the high school girl’s basketball team. Veronica was also on the team, but where Kellie was playing starting center, Veronica’s role was rather more decorative. Kellie had gotten a sports scholarship to some tiny college in the backwoods south, and they’d drifted apart for some years, then started exchanging cards and letters and email again. Then came the invitation.
Kellie had gotten a business degree and was working idly in an insurance office in a small town, keeping herself in shape and trying not to frighten off all the available men, and the idea of a year’s vacation sounded great. Again, like Tamara, she was shocked by all the terms of the deal, but she’d be going back home many times a millionaire, and that, well, that made it all right.
She’d been just slightly heavier than Tamara when she arrived, at 178 pounds, but where Tamara was doughy softness from snacking and laziness, Kellie was all long strong muscle. Her breasts were high and firm, her glutes toned, her thighs muscular. Or they had been.
There wasn’t any exercise machinery at the country house. There wasn’t a basketball court, or even a tennis court. There was a pool, but it was strangely shaped, more for ambience than swimming laps. And Kellie was naturally competitive – This would just be a different kind of game.
So Kellie dove into the arrays of food with a will and a way. But even so, she only made it into second-to-last place. Her high-energy metabolism had been burning off calories all her life. Months had gone by. Tamara’s weight had shot past her own, having gone over 200 in just two months, and Kellie was just looking a little softer at 190, so she had to make a change.
So no more walks around the house to look at the flowers and birds. No more swimming. No more of that. Kellie realized she’d been unconsciously ‘eating healthy’, too, picking up more of the fresh vegetables and less of the red meat. No more. She came out of her room that morning and announced her intentions to everyone, the staff, the other bridesmaids, and most importantly the cooks that she wanted food, junk food, and wanted it now.
Her body finally got with the program. Either through force of will or because it was already reeling from her twenty pound gain, the blast of empty calories, butter, sugar, and lard knocked it flat. Kellie remained as close to horizontal as she could, as long as she could, every day, and kept pushing sugar between her lips and gulping it down. At mealtimes she deliberately took more gravy, larger helpings of everything, and ate as quickly as she could. And she got results.
Kellie had always been a big girl, but now she was getting much bigger. Her underwear stretched thin, then snapped. She stopped wearing any. Her sweatpants began to strain keeping her thickening thighs and bubble butt in, then tore away. She decided to wear only a bathrobe. And the numbers on the scale kept ratcheting up. Two hundred pounds came on fast. Then two hundred and fifty. Her butt was widening rapidly. Her thighs touched, then pressed together, tone and definition fleeing under the onslaught of fat. Her sharp-boned face rounded out, cheeks chubbing up, her breasts racing forwards, and losing, to the expansion of her belly.
More calories chased each other between her teeth. The hard-charging competitor’s weight caught the indolent and lazy Tamara at 312, and kept going, but there was only a month left in the year, and now Kellie was sauntering down the aisle, smiling at everyone, admiring the expensive flowers.
The smile was a little forced, in fact. The last few days had been an incessant blur of chewing, her stomach always aching from overloading. Although the final weighing had been some hours before, she’d glutted herself one more time just before walking in, just to show them even more, as the tightness in her stomach and the tightness in her dress fought each other.
And she was showing them. She’d been weighed at 351 pounds, with a fifty-inch bustline and a sixty-inch waist, good for two million dollars. The seamstress had made it fit excellently, but Kellie had gone and stuffed herself one more time, obviously straining the smooth fabric as she swayed along. She reached the end, a powerful dominatrix woman of tight dresses, tight skin, and firmly quivering fat, and accidentally brushed against the doughy softness of Tamara.
Both women giggled nervously, neither of them really familiar with how large they’d become, and turned to watch the third bridesmaid enter.
There was a noticeable delay. The music continued.
